


Paths we Choose

by FictionWriter09



Category: d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Athos, Parent Milady, Parent-Child Relationship, Period Typical Attitudes, Protective Athos, Protective Musketeers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionWriter09/pseuds/FictionWriter09
Summary: In 1625 eighteen-year-old Régine has recently come to Paris to further her education  when four men show up at her door claiming her life is in danger, soon secrets are revealed that spark a battle for survival.





	Paths we Choose

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All original content and character's belong to Alexandre Dumas whose works are public domain. Any recognizable pieces from the various movies and tv series belongs to their creators. I'm just borrowing.

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

Winter 1606 

"Oliver?" Anne called as she hurried down the portrait hall, her strawberry blonde curls flying about. She paused at the end of the hall searching for any indication of her husband. Ahead of her was a set of stairs, to her left was another hallway. Wondering if he had gone up to the library Anne made to ascend the stairs until out of the corner of her eye she saw light flooding the hallway from an open door on the left.

Anne's eyes softened, she should have known he'd be there, holed up in his study. With an almost childlike grin she hefted her skirts and ran the short distance to the first door on the left. "Oliver!"

Oliver was pouring himself a glass of wine as he reviewed the countless bits of paperwork when he heard his name being called, he glanced up to see his wife standing there, arms braced on either side of the doorway, hair falling loose and cheeks colored from running. He quickly stood from his chair, moving to walk around the desk as he took in her appearance "Anne, are you alright?" he knew she had been unwell these past few weeks, and had sent for the family physcian despite her protests. Yet now, while she didn't seem unwell, she seemed flustered. "What did the doctor say?"

She rushed into his waiting arms, hugging him tightly for a moment before pulling back. "Oh darling, I have the most wonderful news."

He smirked as he backed up to sit on the edge of the desk, tugging her by wrists so that she stood between his legs. "And what might that be?" he asked moving his hands to rub her forearms.

"I am with child." Her words came out in a sly a whisper, as her fingers toyed with a loose thread on his doublet.

Oliver tensed, swallowing thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She nodded her head enthusiastically, "Yes, apparently my body just needed time to adjust ." She trailed off with a shrug, Oliver no longer listening as he began to panic.

'What did he know about being a father? What if he did something wrong...What if he turned out to be like his father?' His own father had been cold and harsh with him, never paying him much attention or seeming to care, leaving him and his younger brother in the care of the staff until the age of twelve, after which they were expected to care for themselves.

'No,' he thought fiercely, 'His child would never have to go through that, never be in want of it's parents affection or doubt their love.' He would ensure that.

Lost in his own thoughts, he did not see Anne frown, worried by his sudden silence. "Oliver?" she asked, bringing a hand to his cheek. The touch of her cool hand against his warm skin brought him back to reality. And it was then as he took in her appearance; strawberry locks disheveled, face flushed and bright eyes darting back and forth as her teeth worried her bottom lip, that it finally sunk in.

'Anne was carrying his child.' 'Anne was carrying his child!' He couldn't help but grin at the thought as he leaned down to kiss her, the sudden change in mood surprising Anne as she relaxed into the kiss, arms winding around his neck.

It was Anne who finally broke the kiss, blinking owlishly up at him, "Are you happy?" she asked, moving her hands to rest on his shoulders.

"Of course I am." Oliver shook his head, "Why would you even have to ask?"

"Well, it's just for a while you didn't say anything so I just assumed-" She waved a hand between them gesturing to her currently flat stomach, unsure how to continue.

"Ah, I see," he said, realizing what she was getting at. "Well, let me assure you." He chuckled, grasping her by the waist as he picked her up and spun her around, eliciting a shriek of surprise before her laughter joined his own. "Nothing could make me happier!"

"Really?" Anne smiled, unable to conceal a small laugh as he reversed their previous positions so she was the one sitting on the desk and he was standing before her.

"Really." He returned the smile with a short nod, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace, "I was simply lost in my thoughts that was all."

"Good." She smirked accepting his answer, resting her head on his shoulder. "And yet I'm curious to know as to what dark thoughts could take away from such wonderful news?" She hummed, reaching up to brush a few dark strands from his eyes.

"My father," Oliver murmured, dropping a kiss to her hair, arms tightening protectively.

It was Anne's turn to tense. "Oh." The elder Comte de la Fère had expressed his distaste and for her quite clearly from the beginning.

"And my childhood." He bowed his head with a sigh, "I don't want our child to grow up like I did, seeing more of the staff then their own mother and father. And I don't want to become like my father either."

"Ah." She nodded, now it made sense. "Oliver look at me; your father may have been a good Comte, but he is also a proud man shut off of any emotion. You are not like that, Oliver, you proved that when you fell in love with me instead of marrying the woman your father chose for you. And the people in town are happier now with you as the Comte, at least you take an actual interest in them.

That was true. The elder Comte had been good at what he did, but he lacked the emotion and interest to actually care for or take interest in the people in his territory.

"You're a better man than he is, so you will be a better father than he was. Besides, do you honestly think I would leave our child in Grimaud or Kitty's hands?" She raised a brow, disbelief and laughter in her tone.

Even Oliver had to laugh at that last statement. "I suppose you're right."

"Naturally." She smirked, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the door with a look of determination. "Now come,"

Oliver raised a brow but none the less let himself be pulled along. "And where, might I ask, are we going?"

"Lunch, I am absolutely famished," she explained, "I had Grimaud prepare us a special meal."

Oliver grinned and shook his head. "Yes, I do believe a celebration is in order."

"Good, because afterwards we have to go pick out which room to use for the nursery, not too close that we'll be kept up all night but not too far way either." Anne told him as they made their way to the dinning hall and Oliver was acutely aware of how much they would have to get done before the baby arrived, and suddenly nine months didn't seem long enough.

They chose a room across the hall three doors down from theirs; Anne liked it for the fact that the one wall was full of windows. Afterwards Oliver sent for the family cradle to be refurbished with new wood, even the bedding on the inside and canopy was to be completely replaced with an off-white lace like material. The rest of the room's furnishings were to be completely new, done in dark cherry wood.

They also hired a governess named Esther, she was older than the two of them, in her early-thirties, she had a gentle but no nonsense disposition and a very crude sense of humor.

Anne meanwhile had given both Esther and Kitty the task of making baby clothes much to the latter's displeasure.

In the weeks that followed, Anne found herself bed-ridden from nausea, unable to keep but a few sips of water and some broth down, though assured by the doctor that was completely normal -when Oliver's concern for his wife got the better of him he requested the doctor come just to be sure -and that it would pass soon enough.

And he was right. After several more weeks the nausea lessened and with it her appetite returned with a vengeance, often resulting with Kitty making several trips to the kitchen -when the pregnancy was announced the cook had taken care to have food set aside for Anne, throughout the day and night.

As the weeks turned into months Anne's abdomen steadily began to swell as the babe grew. Much to Anne's simultaneous excitement and discomfort, because as much as it thrilled her, it now bothered her to walk or stand for extended periods of time.

"Are you not done yet?" Anne snapped as Kitty worked on letting out her dress -something that was becoming more frequent now that Anne was in her sixth month.

"Almost ma'am," Kitty replied, hurrying along in her work, knowing it was best not to keep her mistress waiting, as her patience was very thin as of late and her temper had seemed to increase.

"Oh." Anne let out a breath, giving a sudden jolt as the babe delivered a sharp kick to her side.

Kitty paused immediately, glancing up. "Something wrong, Ma'am?"

"No," she shook her head, rubbing a hand gently where she had been kicked. "He's just moving again."

"Perhaps you should rest, your dress is finished." Kitty cut and tied off the last thread, moving to ease Anne into a nearby chair just as Oliver appeared in the door.

"Is everything alright?" he strode forward, giving Anne a kiss on the cheek, placing a rather lumpy looking package on the table.

"Other than your son kicking like a wild horse?" She dismissed Kitty with a wave of her hand, -the young woman curtseying to them as she grabbed the sewing basket and left. "Everything's fine. How was the trip into town?"

Oliver chuckled. "It went well, I picked up the furniture, it's actually quite nice."

"Really?" Anne's eyes lit up in anticipation, "Well then we'll see to it that the carpenter's is given something for his work." Anne held out her hands allowing him to help her stand -which was quite difficult due to her large midsection.

"Oh wait, I have something for you, -for the child," he announced once she was finally standing, he reached over to grab the lumpy package, handing it to her. "A gift from the sisters at the church."

Ever since she began to show, the town had been a buzz of anticipation for the Comte's future heir; it was the talk of the town, people were even placing wagers on the name! They also began sending gifts to them -mostly things for the child, others for Oliver and Anne.

She shook her head fondly as she gently untied the string, carefully removing the paper from the surprisingly soft contents and gasped. Inside were two soft velvet blankets, one lavender and one silvery green. "They're beautiful."

"Since we can't be sure if it's a boy or girl they made us one for both."

"Well, I am most certainly sure it's a boy." She stuck out her chin confidently, ever since she felt those first strong kicks, Anne was certain it would be a boy, and made a note of it every chance she got. "And I think your son most certainly agrees." She smiled as she felt another strong kick in her abdomen. "However," she glanced at the lavender blanket in her hand. "This is far too pretty to get rid off, we shall have to save it for when we have our second child."

With that she swept purposely from the room in the direction of the nursery. Leaving Oliver smiling as he trailed behind her before he halted mid step, color leaving his face as he caught on to her final words.

'Second child?!' He wasn't sure if his nerves could handle it.

The rest of Anne's pregnancy seemed to pass by all too quickly and yet at same time, not fast enough, as they both grew anxious to meet their first child. Then, shortly after midnight in late August Anne went into labor. Leaving Oliver to wait outside their bedroom, Grimaud at his side. He tried to distract himself with work but found himself unable to concentrate. How could he when his wife was in labor? So he found himself back in the hallway outside their bedroom, waiting, sometimes cringing at her screams.

Around noon, Grimaud brought up lunch and a bottle of wine. With his nerves on edge, Oliver went straight for the wine bottle, leaving the food untouched.

Several hours had passed and Anne grew more vocal; finally after Anne gave a particularly loud scream everything fell silent. That's when fear began to creep into his mind; 'Had something gone wrong? Anne was young, not much passed seventeen now -they married the spring before, and she was still quite petite despite her luscious curves.' He knew 'there were dangers when it came to child birth and- No!' He shook himself 'both Anne and their child would be fine, Perhaps she was resting? Yes that was it after all she had been in labor for nearly twelve hours.' Suddenly the silence was pierced by a tiny wail that grew progressively louder until the unmistakable cries of a newborn drifted through the door. Oliver's head shot up, drumming his fingers on his knee, eyes locked on the door, waiting.

The next several minutes dragged on tensely until finally the door swung open, and in the next moment Oliver was on his feet striding forward expectantly, anxiously, as one of the Midwives stepped out. "Mother and child are both fine. You can see them now if you like."

That was all Oliver needed to hear before pushing past the doctor and entering the room. "Anne," He breathed as he stopped in the doorway taking in the scene before him.

Anne was sitting in the middle of their bed supported by a mountain of pillows, she was pale, her usually vibrant curls were limp, damply plastered to her forehead and there was still a sheen of sweat on her face, a clean dressing gown hung loosely on her shoulders as she cooed to a bundle of blankets cradled in her arms. At the sound of his voice Anne turned her head, flashing the most radiant smile he'd ever seen. "Come."

He needed no further prompting as he made his way over to the bed, hearing a distinct snuffling coming from the bundle of blankets in his wife's arms the closer he neared. As he reached her side Anne shifted the bundle in her arms as he stood beside her to reveal the tiny babe inside. The babe was rather large for a newborn but still small as it squirmed in the blankets, small arms waving about.

"He's beautiful," Oliver gently stroked the babe's cheek with his index finger.

"She," Anne corrected glancing at her husband carefully from the corner of her eye. "Meet your daughter."

"Daughter..." Oliver blinked letting her words hang in the air between them. She had not delivered the strong healthy boy they expected, but a strong healthy girl instead. Not a son for Oliver to train how to wield a sword and groom to become the count after him, 'So what now was he to do with a daughter?' he scrutinized her. But suddenly none of that mattered, the moment he got a good look at her for the first time.

"She's beautiful," he murmured gently rubbing a thumb over his daughter's tiny fist, smiling with pride when she grasped onto it contently. "And strong, she'll make a fine example for her brother."

"Of course." Anne smiled, feeling relieved knowing that, while he had expected a son he welcomed their daughter. "Here," she leaned forward gently holding out their daughter expectantly as he placed his hands under hers, easing their daughter into his arms.

And if Oliver thought he panicked when he found out he was going to be a father it was nothing compared to when Anne placed their child in his arms, giggling at the sight of the normally calm and collected young count having a conniption over holding a baby.

Oliver shot her an uneasy look, -that definitely was not a pout, and huffed before turning his attention back to the squirming girl. "Alright, hush now, you're fine, I won't drop you...I hope," he muttered.

At the sound of her father's voice, the baby slowly stopped squirming, opening her eyes to reveal big dark orbs identical to his own, as she stared at him wide-eyed, carefully lifting her small hand to cling to the fabric of his shirt.

Oliver couldn't resist a chuckle, as she then tried to insert her fist into her mouth. "You are a curious one, aren't you."

"What will we call her?" Anne wondered as she rested back on the bed, her eyes never leaving her husband and daughter.

He spared her a glance before gazing back at their daughter. "Régine."

"It's perfect." She smiled.

* * *

When it was announced that the Comtesse had bore a girl Several of the local other aristocratic families in the area had already started making plans to have their male heirs betrothed to his daughter. But he wouldn't have any of that, knowing none of them were trust worthy and were most likely just trying to profit off the rights on his family's claim as La fère happened to be one of the most lavish provinces in Berry.

Meanwhile, Anne for one was delighted to have a daughter, who she could enjoy more feminine things with like shopping for new dresses, or doing each other's hair while enjoying ladylike conversations; she had no doubt, that with her guidance her daughter would be a proper lady. Often she could be seen signing to Régine. And over time it wasn't uncommon to see Oliver come in and swing her high before kissing her cheek, or just carrying her throughout the house.

It was clear that, while she was not quite the heir they expected, the playful young babe was deeply loved and adored-if not albeit spoiled by her parents, and not to mention highly stubborn.

Quickly after her birth Oliver and Anne learned that the hard way. They were told Régine had colic which in turn made her fussy, the only thing able to soothe her was her parents -especially at night, even with her governess, Régine refused to settle down unless Oliver or Anne were attending her.

'If only she would sleep.' Anne thought as she stood gazing out of one of the large windows in the drawing room, Régine tucked securely in her arms, wrapped in her lavender blanket. After listening to her daughter's cries for the better half of the morning, Anne had taken her from a disgruntled Esther. Now comforted in her mother's arms her cries subsided to mere whimpers as she stared up blearily at her mother.

Feeling a slight chill, Anne tugged her overcoat a little closer before checking that Régine's blanket was snug, to ward off the cold of early spring. The chirpings of small birds could be heard as she turned her attention back to the window to see a small sparrow outside. "Look Régine," she cooed, shifting so that Régine could look out the window. "Look at the pretty bird."

Régine calmed instantly as she stared in wonder at the tiny bird, watching it flit across the lawn, towards the cluster of old dogwood trees that lined the creek at the edge of the grounds. Anne smiled. That was her favorite spot, it was where she and Oliver had spent so many lazy days during their 'courting'; normally it was a very beautiful spot, but currently like much of the grounds and surrounding landscape, it was barren and bore the scars of a harsh winter.

Allowing her mind to wander, she pictured the grounds a few years from now, abundant in the summer air. She saw herself sitting on the bank, bouncing a small boy on her lap, while Oliver and Régine played at the water's edge.

However, Anne was shook from her daydream when she heard a door slam followed by Oliver's angry cursing. The noise startled Régine who now began to resume her fussing.

"Anne!" Oliver called out, heavy footsteps resonating off the wood floors as he searched for her. "Anne?"

"In here." She called over shoulder, rocking Régine gently in an effort to calm her back down. She had just managed to do so when Oliver came storming in wearing a murderous expression, face flushed with anger. At first her heart was filled with dread and alarm at the thought that she was the cause of his anger, though she did her best not to show it.

He paused when Régine gave a particularly loud cry, suddenly realizing what happened he gave Anne a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

Anne shook her head reassuringly. "What's wrong? Did something happen on the way into town?"

A look of irritation took over his features, though his eyes were still dark with anger as he reached into his front pocket retrieving an already opened letter. "I received this today," he explained, annoyance clear in his tone. "From my father."

Allowing Anne to pry the letter from his fingers, Oliver gingerly took Régine in his arms, rocking her soothingly, causing a small smile to tug at the corner of Anne's lips as she watched her husband's anger slowly dissipate as he held their daughter closely, placing a kiss to her forehead, -at only a few months old, Régine clearly had her father wrapped around her chubby little fingers.

Anne's smile faded quickly, into an expression irritation and exasperation. Apparently; while he approved how his son was 'Shaping up to be a fine Comte, he was dismayed to hear that he still insisted on making his mistress Comtesse, even if she was the sister of a priest. But at least now he would be able to secure a beneficial alliance, once they married off the child. '

She raised an eyebrow while Hamon's letter was less than amicable, she saw nothing that would entice her husband's anger as he retrieved something else from his pocket. "Thomas also sends his regards." He managed through clenched teeth, his anger returned with full force as he thrust his hand out, another opened letter clutched tightly in a shaking fist. She had to wonder with intrigue -and a bit of apprehension, just what her brother-in-law had that caused her husband such anger and upon reading discovered. 'That he just couldn't understand why his usually "sensible" brother insisted on lowering himself with that woman. And how he had now sullied their family's good reputation by producing a bastard child.'

While she now recalled Elder Comte's disapproval for 'his son's dalliance with a penniless dame.' It was nothing compared to his brother's irritated reaction at her and Oliver's courtship, no matter how hard she tried, or how much Oliver tried to persuade him, he had developed an instant distrust for Anne. 'Who was only after him for his money and reputation and he might as well have settled for the daughter of a whore.'

Inwardly she cringed at the fact that he wasn't far off on that last part, -not that he or Oliver ever needed to know that, but she truly did care for her husband. Thomas however refused to either believe or accept that, and had made it quite known, especially to Anne.

The rift came to a head after The Elder Comte proclaimed he could never acknowledge such a marriage, when Oliver gave her their mother's engagement ring. Enraged claiming that; "If his brother whished to tarnish his name and inheritance, so be it. But he would not be inclined to go down with him." He left, taking residence with their father in the family's Country home, and neither had made an effort to contact them since.

Until this past winter when Oliver decided to write to them, telling them of Régine's birth. Initially Anne was against it, and tried to dissuade him, but she saw how much it meant to him so she conceded, now she sincerely wished he hadn't.

'And as for that bastard daughter of yours; she'll bring you nothing but trouble, mark my words she'll be just like her mother. It's a pity she didn't perish this past winter, Take my advice for once; and get rid of her, of them both-'

'How dare that man!' Anne balled up the letter glancing at her husband he had a grim expression on his face. Something about the look on his face coupled with the words from the letter pulled at something deep within her, moving purposefully towards the fireplace she tore fiercely at the two letters ripping it into pieces and tossing them into the dying fire, the embers greedily licking up the scraps. Taking a deep breath she decided the past was the past, she would not let it ruin what she had with Oliver.

Placing a gentle hand on his cheek she angled him to look at her softly tracing the stubble on his chin. "Forget about it, the ravings of a lonely old man, and a younger, -albeit hot tempered brother, who is jealous of me for having stolen you nothing more, my Darling. Besides they've made their choice and you've made yours, they both can grumble all they want, what's done is done." Entwining her fingers with his she began walking towards the door giving him no choice but to follow, what they both needed now was to just relax. And perhaps a fine bottle of Spanish wine.

Despite the advice Anne gave her husband, try as she might, the actions of the past weighed heavy on her mind and on her heart for the remainder of the day as she was reminded of things she had tried so hard to forget. Until finally, later that night as they were watching their daughter as she slept peacefully wrapped in her lavender blanket, her tangled dark brown curls spilling onto the blanket and mattress, Anne realized she could no longer in good conscience keep the truth from her husband; it was the only way they could truly move forward. And should the issue of Anne's past arise and Oliver happened to absolve her of any guilt, than all the better.

But how to tell him without the distraction of his daily duties? It would be best if she could do so when they were alone, least any prying ears hear something, they ought not too.

Sometime later as the two lay together in the darkness; her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, his hand wrapped securely around her waist, a plan crept into her mind. "Let's go for a ride tomorrow, at dawn."

Oliver's eyebrow's shot up, one eye opening to look at her. "What?"

"Why not," she countered with a sly smile, that was more of grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "You could use the distraction and I've been restless lately." It was true; she had been feeling restless and out of sorts lately, and that letter hadn't helped any. "Besides we've been stuck in this house all this winter with a colicky baby....think of it as a well deserved break."

"Mmmm," he grunted, the idea did have its appeals. "Wait, what about Régine?"

"Esther is more than capable of watching her for an hour or two, and she has an entire household of servants to assist her."

"I suppose you're right," he chuckled.

She smiled. knowing she had won. "You know I am," kissing him lightly she lay down beside him.

......

"But dawn?!"

* * *

By the following morning the events of the day before seemed far away compared to the prospects of what was sure to be a simply enjoyable morning ride. The sun shined down brightly as they set out down the stone path gaining speed as they passed the gate, fresh dew glittered on top of an early morning frost.

Anne was riding Collete, a crème colored young mare; a gift after Régine was born. Oliver on Boreas a stallion he'd acquired the day he met Anne. The horses enjoyed the crisp spring air, a contrast to the stale stables they'd been held up in since winter. Hooves eagerly thundering along the dirt roads signaling they had reached the edge of the La Fére Estate, they followed the narrow road beside the creek, -which in reality was the only road, that would eventually lead them to town. Twisted dogwood trees lined the sides, and off in the distance were several farm fields. They could hear already the sounds of the farmhands and villagers getting ready for another days work. When at last they came to a fork in the dirt road instead of heading straight for town they turned right which would take them in the direction of those farms fields, this path was more rural skirting the town and surrounding villages; mostly farmers and the lower class lived out this way. As they drew close those that were already up and about bowed their heads respectfully as the young couple rode by. Continuing on til they reached a more desolate area Oliver regaled her with tales of his youth, swimming in the nearby river or falcon hunting with his father in the woods, -which was the only enjoyable thing he ever did with his father, so of course it was rare or just simply roaming the surrounding fields to avoid lessons.

"Oliver why is it you never speak of your mother?" Anne wondered as they came up to a rather large -albeit slightly over grown, apple orchard that was well kept despite the trees' gnarled roots and spindly forms. Ahead of them lay several vineyards the largest of which Oliver pointed out, belonged to them and had been in his family for over one-hundred-and fifty years.

He sighed, "My parents marriage was hardly ever more than one of convenience-" Early on Oliver understood his parents were only married because his mother's position helped secure his father's claim who had been the youngest in his family yet still had been the one to inherit the title, -the chosen heir, his cousin Rodrigue had squandered half of his inheritance in gambling leaving him severely indebted, his other cousin Lucien had gone off to fight and eventually died for France, then there had been his youngest cousin Sebastian who at a tender age had joined the church, his oldest brother Narcisse was just too soft hearted and meek to take on the adverse discernment of being Comte, and Macaire who's main preference were drinking and women had no interest whatsoever of taking on the position. Leaving Hamon as his Grandfather's chosen heir. But the stress of the title had always worn heavily on him. "For a time things were fine, but as Thomas and I grew older, the pressure of the title began to take its toll and he eventually turned to the bottle. For as long as I can remember they fought over everything, but mostly us. It got to the point Mother gave him an ultimatum, she refused to watch him drown himself at the bottom of a bottle, and threatened to take us and leave. I suppose you could wager how that went over; he told her if she wanted to leave than she could go. But there was no way The Comte de La Fére would let his only sons be raised to benefit the courtiers of Paris, so my mother left and returned to Paris alone, from than on it was just me, Thomas and our father. I think I saw her once after that...still she wrote, to us at least much to my father's concertation. Then one day, the winter after I turned fifteen the letters just stopped coming, eventually he agreed to send one of the servants if only to stop me from going myself. It was Grimaud who went, he returned Christmas day with the remainder of her possessions; she'd died of Consumption two days before he arrived."

"Oliver, I didn't know I'd-" She quickly backtracked, they're backgrounds may have differed greatly but she knew the pain of losing one of the only people who cared for you.

"She'd of loved you," he said as they rode on through the orchard, enjoying the sweet smell the fruit gave off, despite their flushed cheeks and red tipped noses for although it was an ideal weather for early spring this time of the year, it was cooler beneath the trees and both had declined the cloaks Grimaud had offered them in favor of the light riding clothes that morning. She wore a portrait style riding dress sleeves ending just above her wrist made of a soft cotton blend, light pink floral print and gold lace design on the skirt embroidered with orange, paired with crème colored riding boots. While Oliver wore a pale soft crème shirt embroidered with dark purple around the collar and end of the sleeves, finely pressed dark breeches and a quite fetching leather Navy blue and black doublet, paired with well worn but neatly polished cedar brown boots. As they rode underneath the trellis that marked the official entrance to the vineyard, the sun peaking through the leaves creating intricate shaped patterns on their clothing, Oliver noticed a small patch of forget-me-knots climbing up the sides gently he plucked one before presenting it to Anne. "For you, M'lady." Who accepted it with a fond roll of her eyes as he secured it in her hair, nonetheless she leaned over giving him a kiss on the cheek, he caught her arm as she made to ride on, leaning in to kiss her fully on the mouth when she pulled away at the last second giving him a coy grin before popping a grape in her mouth. He shook his head at the mischief that danced across her expression before shifting so that she could kiss him fully, the sweet tasting grape lingered between them enticing him to deepen the kiss.

"Go on, say it," Anne found herself smiling as they pulled away, breathless and cheeks flushed -though now no longer from the cold, she'd forgotten what it was to feel so care free.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste to kiss the top of it a look of pure adoration in his eyes, "Oh, I love you." turned her hand over then kissed her palm before moving on to her wrist. At that moment somewhere in town the Church bells were being wrung snapping Anne out of her bliss and reminding her why she wanted to be out here in the first place, she couldn't help but curse and that blasted chalice, without meaning too her thoughts had drifted to the priest wondering if he was the one ringing the bells, just to taunt her, no he had...been kind to her, in fact she wasn't even sure if he was still living in the village though she doubted it. Then in truth she hadn't given him a single thought till now.

"Oliver," she began slowly as they moved on, beginning to have second thoughts.

"Yes Anne?" he wonder curiously as she seemed to have suddenly withdrawn.

"Swear that nothing will ever come between us." It was not what she had intended to say but she couldn't do it, not until she knew.

"I swear it." he promised sincerely, smiling at her lovingly which she did her best to return, but was grateful that he had already ridden ahead because she was sure she had failed miserably. They rode on in silence for a few more minutes exploring the vast vineyard.

"Oliver," Anne spoke at last penetrating the peaceful lull that surrounded them. "What if someone did something, something that they knew was wrong, and did it anyway?"

Oliver seemed to think a moment, "Well, I suppose it would depend on their reason for doing so."

"But what if they committed a crime?"

Oliver was silent, a moment and Anne feared he may suspect. "It would depend on the nature of the crime in that case, and their motivation for doing such a thing."

"And if they felt as if there was no other way? I mean don't people sometimes time doing the wrong thing, for the right reason."

"Yes they do, and then in that instance it should not matter." "My, you are inquisitive this morning, what brought that about?" He chuckled good naturedly, pulling on Boreas' reins til the horse slowed falling in step with Colette. "Anne, are you alright?" he suddenly noticed the pensive expression her face They had been having such a wonderful time.

"Oh- nothing, it's fine." Maybe she didn't need to tell him - or at least, not now anyways. But perhaps as long as she knew that nothing could ever come between them, it would be enough to give her the strength and the courage for when the day came that she finally told him, but not today.

"Are you sure?"

Anne rolled her eyes, "Yes!" a small grin made it's away to her face. "I'll race you back home!"

"Wha-" Before he could speak, with an abrupt kick Anne spurred her own horse forward and shot off like a bullet through the Vineyard gaining speed as they re-entered the Apple orchard despite the roots. Down the trail that followed along the river, a clearing of trees lay just a head. Strawberry Blonde curls fluttering in the breeze quite a few becoming plastered to her face.

It had all been going so well, they would've been free. And then it all went to hell. In the time it took her to glance back at her husband, she rounded the corner failing to notice the snake that slithered out of the thicket hissing and spitting, startling the young mare.

"Whoa, Easy girl-Whoa!" Anne pressed her heels against the horse, tugging on the reins in a desperate attempt to calm Collete down and regain control. It was no use, she reared back in fright, Anne shrieked in horror as she lost her grip and was thrown violently to the ground with a bone rattling thump as the horse bolted away down the trail.

"Anne!" Oliver yelled as he jumped from his horse racing to her unconscious form. "Anne?" he breathed a sigh of relief when he detected a faint pulse beneath his fingers, careful not to jostle any injury she may have received, gently he rolled her on to her back, her hands were red and there was a small patch of forest debris stuck to the side of her face. Carefully he wiped it away, wincing when he noticed the gash on her cheek and the angry bruise that was starting to form on her temple.

Pulling a hunting knife from his pocket he set about cutting her dress so that he could loosen her corset. -Knowing his wife she'd most likely be more upset that he had ruined her dress, letting the dress hang loose he slashed the strings of her corset.

She gasped for breath then faltered when it caused immense pain causing her eyes to fly open. "O-Oliver!"

"Shhh," he placed a calming hand on her shoulder, stopping her when she tried to get up he noticed her tense, suddenly avoiding his gaze. "Anne what-" he followed her gaze, her dress had slipped down her arms revealing the brand of the fleur-di-lis. "Anne-" His tone was one of shock and confusion, trying to connect his sweet Anne to the treacherous mark on her shoulder, for it couldn't be real he must be seeing things, he would have noticed it earlier. Besides there was no way she could have hidden it, certainly not when they had been intimate but the proof was there even as he touched the raised skin, causing her to flinch.

"It was a stupid, stupid, mistake," her voice was strangled, caught in her throat hoping, praying that the caring, attentive, and gentle man she married wouldn't turn her away.

"There is a difference between making a mistake and being a criminal!" he seethed, jumping up and beginning to pace, hands fixated in his hair "My father was right about you all along, I never should have trusted you!" he rounded on her anger and betrayal took a hold of him, destroying any hope of reasoning. 'How could he have been so blind? All those missing pieces, those things that never quite fit, and the reasons she never wanted to speak of her past. He was a fool!.'

Desperate she clung to his hand, "No, Please just let me explain-" But her husband was no longer listening, no longer caring. He wrenched his hand back as if she were something diseased, storming over to his horse without so much as a second glance he rode back towards the Estate alone, leaving his injured wife in the dust.

~&~

Something was wrong, Grimaud knew that the moment he heard the thundering of his Master's horse along the path, it was still early and yet only the Comte had returned, though only for a brief period, he had stormed up the stairs to his study for only a short time before he was out the door and riding back towards town.

Two days had passed since then, and the Comte had locked himself up in his study....and the Comtesse had yet to return....but her horse had, Esther had found her in the kitchen courtyard devouring some of the dried fruit. As if that wasn't troubling enough, rumors had begun to surface, not just among the Chateau but throughout the entire estate, it happened when he'd caught several of the Kitchen staff gossiping, now this was nothing new, but they were insinuating about the Comtesse and that she wouldn't be returning, there was also the matter of the sudden letter from the Comte's father, that had left both the Comte and Comtesse in a mood the afternoon before they went riding.

He had managed to contain them among the household....for now. He sighed and rubbed his temples when Esther inquired if their mistress had returned, her tone was sharp, of course that could be due to the fact the child had not ceased her crying in two days. Though now he could see in Esther's eyes that she too now suspected -no worse, she knew something was not right. The only consolation was that she had stood beside him and helped put a stop to the rumors, he could at least count on her to help .....that is if he ever got to the bottom of whatever this was.

The giant Grandfather clock in the foyer chimed signaling it was time to prepare for dinner. Deciding that honesty was a matter of discretion, Grimaud gathered the Comte's supper, knowing full well it would go uneaten and climbing the stairs he steeled himself before knocking on the door. When no reply was given he breathed deeply through his nose, carefully turning the handle. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. The study itself looked as though a storm had blown through, the only light came from the dying embers in the fire place several pieces of furniture were upturned, various sheets of paper where strewn about the floor; the ornate wine cabinet was unlocked, it's fine glass-doors wide opened. The Comte himself was curled up in one of the large arm chairs sipping a bottle of Spanish wine, several of which were already emptied on the floor. The younger man never so much as batted an eyelash as he stepped into the room, merely staring blankly in the direction of the fireplace. Without so much as a warning Grimaud let the serving tray drop onto the small table echoing with a clatter still, his master did not look up, his gaze locked on the fireplace, but his mind clearly somewhere else.

Unwilling to give in, Grimaud set about doing his best to straighten the room, waiting to see what the Comte would do. Going onto the assumption the Comtesse had left over something either the elder Comte had said or his younger son in their letters. "Married life; tricky business it is balancing that and familial loyalty. I'm sure Mistress will be back soon, besides your father and brother only want what's best for you, I'm sure they didn't mean to cause any harm." He did his best to sound reassuring despite the feeling that, it was indeed the attention of one if not both of the men to cause strife between the young couple.

This seemed to snap him out of his reverie, as the man was now sitting up in his chair. "It doesn't matter anymore, she's not coming back. I should have listened to my father." It seemed once he had begun speak to the words began to pour out into a rant. "Besides," he voice suddenly dropped low almost to a whisper as he began to sober up. "Anne is dead...I killed her," the last part came out as a broken sob.

This time Grimaud did falter. "Wha-What?" He was careful not to raise his voice too loud. "Why?" unable to comprehend what on earth would urge the young man to commit such a horrendous act, let alone against the woman he had clearly loved enough to risk his family and his position for.

In less than levelheaded tones the Comte explained what had happened several days ago. "Thomas was right, she was only after me for my status. I'm such a fool." he moaned flinging the glass bottle into the fire place where it shattered on impact, glass flying everywhere as the fire roared back to life reignited by the wine.

"No, not a fool master, never a fool....just a man blinded by love," he hushed, though in truth he wasn't sure which was worse, As the dark truth began to set in, not just about what his master had done but the consequences of what would happen once word got out; oh he knew there would be some who'd assert he did the right thing- of which he himself was not certain, though now was not the time to dwell on it. But others -the competing nobles would be more concerned over the act itself than the reason behind it, let alone if the true nature of their marriage came about, it could be used to discredit the young Comte...or worse. Especially as the woman had been of common blood, it wouldn't look well to the people who could see it as an act of tyranny and injustice as there hadn't been an actual trial.

Without another word he hefted the Comte out of the chair leading him to the bedroom, alert of any servants they may come across. The sound of Régine's crying alerted her father who started in the direction of the nursery. Grimaud was quick to restrain him, Heaven help them if the Comte was near his daughter in this state. "Not tonight my lord, Esther can handle her," he shushed pulling him into the room. If the study was bad than a hurricane had tore through the master bedroom, wine was sloshed on the floor and bed sheets, the bed itself was torn apart and the Comtesse's vanity had been smashed broken glass remnants of the mirror now littered the floor and upturned furniture. With only some manner of difficulty he deposited the Comte in one of the still upturned chairs while he did his best to clean up the broken glass and place fresh blankets in the bed before carefully relieving him of his doublet and boots leaving him in only an undershirt and trousers, the gears turning in his mind as he searched desperately for solution. But in the end there were no allies for him to turn, Ultimately he knew the young man would have to flee.

"I'll take a vow of silence if I must, but it isn't safe here." he explained carefully. The Comte however said nothing simply sitting on the bed as he stared blankly out the large window over looking the grounds. After a few moments Grimaud edged forward placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Master, I'm afraid there's no other choice-"

"I know," he nodded slowly as he lay down. "I know."

Finally In the early hours before dawn he woke the Comte, who sat for a moment blinking in the darkness before beginning to pull on his clothes while he left to fetch the child -he knew the young man would never leave her behind, mercifully she was still asleep.

It was still dark as they rode away from La Fére, hooves thundering as if the devil himself were after them.

The journey was a long and tiring one, made even longer with the child since they couldn't ride as hard or as fast as his master would have liked. Grimaud had taken care of them both as the now former Comte was clearly in no state to take care of himself -much less a child, he had thought to have Esther accompany them, but remembering the old adage about "Too many hands in the pot." Plus his master's drunk -that's all he was now, ranting's about women being the devil's temptation, he thought better of it, doing the best he could as they journeyed mainly from tavern to tavern often ending with him hauling the young man to bed at long last after a week's journey* their destination was in sight The City of Paris appearing on the horizon .

* * *

Springtime in Paris was the best time of year. Unlike in summer, it was pleasantly warm instead of baking and the sweet smelling flowers worked to mask the smell of sewage. Of course, none of that mattered as Porthos stumbled out of a tavern running for his life, members of the Red Guard fast on his heels…"

Porthos hated the Red Guard, cursing as he ran through the streets It wasn't his intention to be chased like a chicken ready for slaughter it was an accident, -honest! Having stopped at the tavern to get a drink, he spotted a group huddled around a small table playing cards. With no pressing matters at hand he decided to sit in on a game. It was going well when a group of red guards decided to butt in. The others, too frightened of the men, scattered, leaving just him. Never one to back down from a challenge he agreed to a one on one game of Quinze; the wager was ten sous and lunch on the house. Not long into the first round and it became clear to the patrons that the two were well matched and soon a crowd began to form. Even those who had fled the table watched with rapt attention as bets were placed on the winner. Porthos found himself enjoying the game as it was one of his favorites and his opponent for once was a real challenge. An hour had passed when it finally came to an end when his opponent drew a seven given him a total of sixteen where as Porthos had fifteen even. Feeling confident Porthos stood collected his winnings and shook the man's hand intent on enjoying his free meal when he was suddenly set upon by two guards quickly turning it into a bar-room brawl! Up ahead the crowds became more dense and Porthos saw his chance, just around the corner was the Market district which held lots of various people of a colorful and rowdy nature. With any luck he could disappear into the crowd perhaps lay low til the red guard cleared out. Not paying any attention, he rounded the corner. "Watch it!"

"He collided roughly into another body with enough force to send them both veering into one of the displays. Cursing he quickly pulled himself and the stranger upright muttering hastened apologizes to them and the now indignant shopkeeper . "Sorry, My fault." he amended glancing back in the direction he came making to continue, "But I really must be going-"

A firm hand gripped his arm pulling him back "You're not going anywhere." The man was clearly drunk if his appearance and smell were any indication.

Porthos groaned; he really did not have time for this, the footfalls grew closer followed by shouting. With a huff he shook off the man's grip reluctantly placing his winnings in the man's hand, "That should cover it." Without hesitation he made to leave not getting but a few feet before he stumbled back. The guards it seemed were not completely dim-witted for they had managed to sneak around and cut him off. One hitting him hard enough to send him reeling into the waiting arms of two more; one blonde the other ginger who were quick to restrain him, while the one who had hit him began patting him down."Oi, what do you the you're doing?"

Beady eyes surveyed him up and down before the guard turned around, lips pressed in a thin line as he stepped aside. "He doesn't have it sir." Suddenly the man Porthos had played cards with came into view, whose boney frame made him resemble a scarecrow.

Scarecrow tutted, a stray strand of long dark hair hung in his face. "If only you were a good as thief as you were a cheater."

Porthos bristled, "I'm no thief, and I don't cheat either, you're just mad you lost in front of your friends," he spat, it would be all too easy break the guards' hold but given that they were in the middle of a crowded street there was no telling what would happen.

"Insolent too it would appear," Scarecrow sneered, "Nothing a good flogging won't solve."

"I'm not so sure how Monsieur Treville would agree with you on that one." he fired back hotly, watching as the other man narrowed his eyes, posture going rigid.

"No matter, there are other ways." He brandished a dagger as Beady eyes cracked his knuckles. On either side Blondie and ginger chuckled, their mouths reeking of alcohol as the other two neared. Porthos willed himself to remain still, determined not to give in when the man Porthos had bumped into appeared between them causing the other two to halt.

"What has this man done?" The stranger's eyes were sharp as he surveyed the men before him.

"Making friends, are we?" mocked Sarecrow as he stepped forward, "Though I must say going from the Musketeers to associating with the town drunk, that is a step down even for you." He leered smugly before turning to the stranger. "I do believe that's none of your business." He laughed as Porthos lunged but was held fast by the guards on either side.

"I've decided to make it my business, now what has he done?" The stranger crossed his arms, raising a brow.

"Simple, the urchin couldn't play fair, so he cheated." Beady eyes intervened, elbowing Porthos in the ribs when he protested.

The stranger blinked unimpressed. "You'd beat a man over a card game?"

Scarecrow ignored the insinuation. "It's more a matter of Principle, not to mention the winnings he stole."

"You mean this?" the man held up the coin purse.

"Ah, yes, thank you." Scarecrow reached for it, scowling when the Stranger retracted it from his grasp.

"Four against one hardly seems fair," the stranger noted, making no move to return the purse. "If it is, as you say, a matter of principle then I see no reason why an exchange wouldn't suffice; The money in return for his release, unless you'd rather take it up with the Captain?" The man gestured to the pauldron on Porthos' shoulder. "I mean he is a musketeer after all."

"And what," Beady eyes spat. "Is he to you?"

"A stranger, But luckily I'm feeling generous today." The other man shrugged, "Now do we have a deal?"

Beady eyes scoffed but was silenced when Scarecrow held up his hand and made a gesture. Blondie and Ginger looked confused but complied and released Porthos who scowled at them as he was roughly shoved forward. Satisfied, the stranger gave a nod before tossing the purse towards Scarecrow who caught it with surprising ease. "In the future, you'd be wise not to invest in a quarrel that isn't yours." It was at that moment Beady eyes charged, fist flying, aiming directly for the drunk. What he did not expect was for the man to side-step easily catching his wrist and spinning him into one of the displays, drawing his sword before turning his attention back to Scarecrow who sneered and did the same. People scrambled back in fright as a duel began.

"Mind if I join?" Porthos chuckled, hitting Blondie over the head with the pommel of his sword, jerking his arm back to sever a section of twine securing a stack of barrels sending them into the path of the ginger and knocking him down.

By now Beady eyes had gotten to his feet and headed straight for him. He was able to spare a glance at the stranger. The other man's technique was well trained as he struck one blow then pivoted to parry another, only to duck and roll out of the way just as Blondie and Scarecrow rushed forward at the same time from either side, bonking heads and falling flat. Ginger got to his feet dazed and swinging wildly. It was almost comical for Porthos to deflect him, sending him baclwards with a well aimed kick.

By now the Stranger had his sword at Scarecrow's throat. "Leave now," he warned holding the other's gaze for a few tense moments before Scarecrow huffed indignantly, climbing to his feet, glancing around at the shocked and frightened crowd before gesturing to the other three to stand down. Albeit begrudgingly and confused they complied, following as he stalked off through the crowd.

Once they were gone Porthos sheathed his sword. "I suppose I owe you my thanks," he addressed the stranger who was staring off where the four had disappeared.

"Who were they?"

"Cardinal Richelieu's men, The Red Guard. A menace to all of Paris."

"Ah." The stranger knelt down for a moment than held out his hand. "I believe you dropped this." It was the winnings from the game.

He took it with a grateful nod." Er, thanks....Name's Porthos." he stuck his hand out, the other man seemed to contemplate him for a moment, second guessing himself Porthos withdrew his hand.

"Athos," the other man nodded tersely sheathing his sword.

"You have my gratitude. Perhaps we can share a round of fine wine." At the man's somewhat stony expression he hesitated. "Unless you would prefer to pick up where we left off?"

"No, there's been enough fighting for one day ." Athos turned gesturing to an older gentleman with a babe in his arms. "Come Grimaud."

'Odd fellow this one.' he thought as he lead the way back to the tavern.

"So, shall we at last drink to our victory?" They had entered the tavern to cheers congratulations, news of their confrontation with the Red Guard had quickly spread, they were given seats at the bar as wine along with a platter of cheese, bread and fruit were placed in front of them/

There was a clatter and a screech of laughter. "Gah!" as both men turned their heads. The babe was desperately grasping at whatever was in her reach, either playing with them or trying to put them in her mouth, the older man struggled to restrain her, a look of clear desperation on his face.

"Give her here, Grimaud." Athos sighed, putting down his drink and holding out his arms. "This is my daughter Régine."

"Stubborn thing isn't she?" he watched as she continued to struggle against her father's grasp. Though now it appeared she was trying to get over to him. "Will her mother be joining us?" he was careful not make any assumptions.

Athos tensed a moment then took a long sip from his drink. "She's dead."

Porthos winced, "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be." Athos cut in firmly.

"So where are you staying?"

He tipped his cup gesturing to the room around them. "Here I suppose."

Porthos scratched his head "Well than, if you need a place to stay, I wouldn't begrudge the company."

It was late when the three of them finally left the tavern. Somehow they finally made it to his lodgings, -Athos was quite the drinker he found out, more so than himself. "Mousqueton!" he called when they entered. There was a fumbling followed by muffled cursing as a man appeared at the top of the stairs. "Ah, there you are. This is Athos, he and his daughter will be staying here. I need you to show Grimaud to the servants' quarters."

The man's gaze was locked on Régine with contempt as if she were diseased "And just what do you plan on doing with that thing?"

Porthos waved him off,"Oh hush Mousqueton, it's not like you'll have to take care of her, besides I find the little imp rather charming."

"You would," he muttered with a roll of his eyes, before proceeding to show Grimaud to the servants' quarters.

* * *

"Porthos, don't you dare drop her," Athos warned, settling into a chair with a bottle of wine before closing his eyes, he was exhausted. It had been two months since they'd arrived and adjusting to life in Paris was more difficult than he had anticipated as he tried to juggle taking care of his daughter and his recent commission.

"Don't worry, I got her." Porthos assured, tossing Régine gently into the air -much to her delight -and catching her. He'd stopped by when he knew the other man would be home to check in on the pair. He gladly would have let them stay with him permanently but, stubborn as he was, the other man insisted on finding a place as soon as possible, unwilling to impose.

For awhile it was peaceful. Régine giggled happily while Porthos cooed to her as Grimaud bustled around the room preparing lunch when there was a slight hiccupping sound causing Porthos to whine, "Athos!"

Cracking an eye open Athos could see the other man now holding Régine at arms' length. "Yes, Porthos? Is something wrong?" he asked, feigning innocence as Grimaud snorted.

"Your kid threw up on me! "Porthos squawked at him, he merely rolled his eyes holding out his arms to take his daughter while Grimaud brought out some wet rags. Athos merely chuckled good-naturedly when Porthos glared at him.

It was sometime later, after they'd finished their meal that Athos found himself watching his daughter as she slept unware of the unease she had created in her father's mind. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing, with Régine?"

"What?" Porthos pressed lightly; left to it on his own Athos would sooner remain silent

"I knew it would be difficult but I didn't think...." he trailed off a moment. "What kind of life can I give her as a soldier's daughter? We both know a commission comes with risks, I'm just afraid of what would become of her if one day I don't make it back or, God forbid it, someone tries to use her as leverage against me."

"Well don't you have any relatives who could help you look after her?" Porthos wondered.

"My father...."Athos shook his head, fervently dismissing the idea. No way was he allowing his daughter to set foot back in that house, let alone in to his father's care. "But he never approved of her mother, no less her."

"Well," Porthos started, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "You could always foster her out."

"What?"

"Now, hear me out," he quickly threw up his hands in defense. "You can arrange for it to be somewhere just outside the city, this way you can still see her and everything..... She just wouldn't be raised by you."

"Well, yes but-" Athos faltered warily. 'Could he really do that? Abandon his daughter like an unwanted bastard, even if it guaranteed her safety?' he sat back a moment; perhaps it would be for the best. Besides, he really couldn't raise his daughter among The Corps, could he? "I'll think about it."

* * *

Sleep evaded him that night as he wrestled on what to do, once or twice he wanted to reach for the wine but knew he needed to be clear minded in order to make the right decision, which is how, on Monday morning, Athos found himself in the Captain's office seated across from Monsieur Treville, the Captain looking at him with a mix of sympathy and wariness.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" He raised a brow.

Athos bowed his head. "She'll be better off. Besides, being here, I wouldn't have the time for her." He paused, running a hand through his hair, "If there was any other way-" he trailed off.

Treville nodded grimly. "I understand. But what is it exactly you want me to do?" he asked expectantly, though he had an idea of where this was going.

"I wanted to ask you for this one favor, just this once; Is there anyone, anyone at all that you know outside the city, who'd be willing to take her in. I don't want to foster her to just anybody, and...I trust your judgment." There, he'd done it, there was no turning back now.

Treville was surprised by the amount of trust, and immediately one family came to his mind. "There is a couple in Lupiac, Gascony." He began slowly, a small smile gracing his features. "They have a son about a month older than your daughter. I could write to them explaining the situation."

At this, Athos raised a brow, he knew that that region was mostly farmland and the people there weren't very rich. "Would they be comfortable with such a young child, when they already have one that age? Or, more importantly, be able to afford one?"

"If fate had been kinder, they'd have several more children." The Captain's features softened sadly for a moment, before being replaced by a look of fondness. "And as far as finances are concerned, the couple owns five acres of farmland, and make a pretty good profit each year." He paused then cautioned, "It would be far from a life of nobility," he added with confidence. "But, your daughter would be well looked after, I assure you."

Hearing this put Athos at ease, especially considering the Captain seemed to trust these people. "You know them well then?"

Treville nodded. "The father is an old friend of mine, a former musketeer, we met when we both joined the Corps. However he retired about three years ago."

Athos took a chance to think it over. He felt assured knowing Régine would be safe in the care of a former musketeer, not to mention an old friend to the Captain. "Very well," he said at last. "I think it would be best if you wrote to them."

"I'll have a letter sent out first thing tomorrow morning," Treville promised. "And I'll notify you of any reply I receive."

"Of course." Athos gave a curt bow as he stood, making his way to the door. As he turned the handle and began to step out of the office he paused, "Oh, Monsieur Treville?" he turned his head, glancing back over his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh tipping his hat. "Thank you, I won't forget this. Good-day Captain."

Treville bowed his head, "Good-day Athos," he murmured as the man slipped out of the office, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

* * *

True to his word, almost a week later Treville called Athos into his office. "They're more than happy to take her in." He assured as he watched the man carefully read the letter that had arrived earlier, before folding it carefully. It was done and there was no going back.

Four days later Athos arrived at the modest farm, his daughter nestled in the crook of his arm as the rain began to pour steadily. Carefully he dismounted swiftly ignoring the weight that settled in his chest as he knocked on the door.

There was a muffled voice followed by shuffling til the door swung open revealing a man he looked about Treville's age. With dark hair prematurely streaked silver. "May I help you?"

"My name is Athos I am commissioned under M. Treville in Paris, he sent you a letter-"

"Ahh, yes. We've been expecting you," Recognition shown in the man's eyes and he quickly stepped aside. "I'm Bertrand, please do come in No sense of standing about outside like this is some sort of business arrangement."

Oh how Athos wished it was, that would make it easier.

"Have a seat I'll get my wife," Bertrand lead him to a small dinning room before he disappeared up the stairs returning followed by a petite woman with long red hair. "Athos this is my wife Françoise."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"You must be tired from your trip, Can I get you something to eat or drink?" Françoise smiled kindly.

"No thank you, I'm afraid I cannot stay long." he shook his head glancing at his daughter who regarded her new surroundings with curiosity. Almost instinctively he felt his grip tighten. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, if there's anything I can ever do to repay you."

"Thank you Monsieur Our home is hers for as long as it's needed."

He nodded, feeling an ache in his chest even as the couple gave him their assurances, til at last he could no longer delay the inevitable, surrendering his daughter with a lingering kiss.

"Give my regards to Treville."

"I will," Athos promised as Bertrand walked him to the door.

"Have a safe Journey."

With a grateful nod Athos turned on his heel mounting his horse, tugging sharply on the reins as he spurred his horse onward, back towards Paris.

End Chapter I.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is 99% beta'd by Lady Wallace on FF.net except for the last section.
> 
> Author's Notes: The reason I gave Athos and Milady a daughter the same as D'artagnan was when this was drafted I had only seen the movies and thought they were all much older than D'artagnan.
> 
>  
> 
> This was originally supposed to be 10 chapters, but it changed direction from what I wrote in this chapter, and this took 5 years to write. Plus I am no longer interested in the fandom, I forced myself to write a story once before and I hated it so this will stay as is.


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